Wonder is its worth,
a side-salad significance;
the churn of unconciousness.
The mind orders night food,
slinks in the bed boundries
while menu covers head over
pillows.
A chef dicing up notions
that are uncertain
to be stomached, digested
as a sweet flavour delivers
energy in a single bite.
Feverishly In slumber
lengthened dreams
turn milk to kept butter.
Morning forgets,
but breakfast is a departure,
mindful of a chewed meal
resolved.
